A/N Before you start reading, please be aware that this chapter might have been re-rated to an M. Perhaps. Perhaps not. Up to you to decide. Hope you like it, anyway.
-25-
"What are you doing, sneaking up in here?!"
"Wasn't 'sneaking'."
"Oh yes, you were. I know, I felt it and I even thought I saw it, being watched. Why—"
"Wait. What was that, being watched?" he asked.
"You were watching from down there, weren't you?"
"No way was I doing so. What do you think I do for a living, stalking? Show me what you mean?"
She locked the gun and opened the door, leaving the lights out. She motioned him to follow her into the living room and then, slowly, opened the shutters and was fully surprised the car she saw before wasn't there anymore. She turned to Callen. "It's gone. There was this car."
"Brand? Plates?" Callen hurried to the phone. Maybe he could contact Eric. Looking at the time zones, Eric would probably still be at ops.
"I think it was a Toyota, a green one, five doors. It was too dark to see or read plates".
He had to redial twice, because although he knew how to reach the LA headquarters by heart, he forgot to use the codes for Guam first. "Eric?—Yeah I know what time it is. Can you let your magic work in Guam as well? I'd ask Clarke if I knew he had the same equipment in his office—yes. No, hopeless.—Far less, hardly seen any cams around. It's for…" he looked at her and she said "Bihu St Mongmong-Toto-Maite, 96910."
She could hear that the person on the other side never heard of the street and in fact, she hadn't either when she came in here for the first time.
"Yes, let Sam know please.—Yes, that too, hope you'll soon know more. —Because… I'll explain later."
He hung up. "Now, about you and what just happened".
"What just happened, well, I don't know. There was just a car, it might be a coincident. Maybe there's nothing to worry about and maybe I was just paranoia."
"If your gut feeling is working like mine, I might stay here to keep an eye on you."
"It's okay, I can handle it," she said, as she let her hands go through her still wet curls.
"You can handle it, but I am far from sure if I can. I have never before been threatened by a barefoot woman dressed in a tanktop and boxer shorts only," he said hoarsely.
"Oh and please, Chris, don't do that" as he saw her wetting her lips and then biting her lower lip again. He let his eyes go over her body again. "Dzjeez" was all he said as he came closer and kissed her. The tiny moan she let out did it. Callen started kissing her neck, remembering how she had reacted to that before.
The raspy feeling of his five o'clock stubble, combined with the feeling of the cool leather of his jacket against her skin made her body answer for her. Callen let his hands roam all over her, feeling how she started pressing her body more against his and the soft sounds she made encouraged him to go on.
She managed to get him out of the jacket and pulled his shirt up, running her hands underneath, changing from a soft tickling of her fingertips over his torso to a light massaging of his shoulders, his back and lowering her hands.
"Sure about this?" He asked her, though the look in her eyes said it all. Callen kicked off his boots and, without unlocking his eyes from her gaze, undid the button of his jeans when her hands took over and were working on the zipper and shove his jeans of.
"Definitely," was all she managed to say as she pulled him closer.
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
At the LA Office of Special Operations
"Too many variables, Bertrand's Paradox, the classical sample space, it breaks down the definition of the continuous probability theory, but still".
"What on earth do you mean Nell?" Deeks wanted to know.
Eric mischievously looked at the small yet clever analytical wonder woman standing next to him before he completed her words "random variables combined with stochastic processes, measured quantities that singly occur or evolve over time in an apparently random fashion".
"What it means, Mr. Deeks, is that I am sending you and Miss Blye to Guam right now, no probability but as a fact."
"But Hetty—Nell said—why?"
"Never really paid attention at maths, Marty?" Eric teased.
"I did," Kensi said, "and I still don't get what you two were saying right now, but the simple fact that Igor Yerko signed for a green rental Toyota at Avis Guam makes things too suspicious."
"Igor Yerko, as in 'Igor Yerko'?"
"The very same, Mr Deeks. And in case you do not remember this Igor Yerko, he was one of the members of Vayavich' elite team, the only one that got away. Now, I assume your bag is packed already because your plane will leave in 42 minutes from now."
"You mean check in time is in 42, wait, 41 minutes?"
"Quit talking. No check in, you two got a flight to catch with a military personnel plane, straight to Guam Andersson which makes you arrive at 5.30 AM local time. Now, shoo!" Hetty said.
"Have mercy Hetty. Please not another of these shake, rattle and roll machines?"
"Filled with disciplined people who hate nervously talking strangers indeed. Come on, Deeks, you won't keep them waiting!" his partner said.
Despite the jaunty air her decision to send Deeks and Kensi to Guam as well, had to do with Hetty's growing concern that something might in fact be very shook up when it came to these cases.
Far too many coincidents: the cyanide, the drones, the short distance from Russia ánd the fact that Yerko was around. She decided to text Sam and Callen to let them know their team mates would be staying in the same building as they were.
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
Callen woke up from the softest buzz of his phone, needing only some seconds to realize where he was. He carefully reached for his jeans to get his phone and smiled when, with his unexpected move, a soft moan and the sensual, cat-like stretching reminded him that he was sharing this bed with an amazing woman.
He sighed, wishing this session of satisfying sleep and careless dreaming had not been disturbed by something else. Something must have come up on the LA screens, something important, otherwise none of his team would not text at this time.
The message worried him indeed. Igor? To him, Igor had been just a puppet on a string. Not the kind of person that would succeed Dmitri as a Brigada leader and plan himself. And how come Igor had not been arrested at that time?
He stepped out of bed and headed to the living room, wondering if he should let Hetty know what his ideas were about this. Just when he thought he should do so, another message from their operation manager popped up. 'Be careful Mr Callen, Yerko knew Borya and Miss Young.'
He let his thoughts run and then decided to text back, to Hetty and Sam. 'Will keep an eye on her. Find out Yerko's whereabouts of the last months.'
A sneak peek from the dark place he was standing through the windows showed nothing suspicious was happening outside at all.
He stepped into the bedroom again, leant against the wall and watched her for a while. She slept partly on her side, partly on her stomach, her body half covered by the sheets, her arm folded under a pillow, dark curls spread out everywhere.
After they had made love she never put on the tanktop again and now he was looking at one of her perfectly shaped breasts and her long tanned leg that was stretched on to where he just lay. Callen let out a deep breath and slipped next to her. The slight movement made her curl her leg in a way that made it hard for him to fall asleep again. Not that he longed for his bedroll, though…
o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)
Even in his sleep he could feel it. Somebody was watching him. "Chris?" he said in a quiet voice.
As ever, your reviews are welcome!